


End of the Rope

by BlackVelvet42



Series: End of the Rope [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: "She wanted to tell him she didn’t need to think of anyone else, that his body and hands and oh, so gorgeous mouth were enough, but she kept the lies inside and filled the silence with a moan."





	End of the Rope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleTayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleTayy/gifts), [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts).



> Thank you LittleTayy and MiaCooper for the inspiration. Your KJ/Ayala fics had quite a profound, unexpected impact on me;)
> 
> And thank you Devovere for the encouraging beta, the words of wisdom, and for sharing that quiet, comfortable workspace with me.
> 
> Six Deadly Words prompts: #37 Dead but not forgotten. Not yet.

* * *

 

 

Her gaze was still fixed to the stars outside the window when he nudged her legs further apart and settled his weight on her.

“You can think of him if you want to. I don’t mind,” his thick voice suggested.

She wanted to tell him she didn’t need to think of anyone else, that his body and hands and oh, so gorgeous mouth were enough, but she kept the lies inside and filled the silence with a moan.

Five years. One would expect her to stay focused on the first man to touch her intimately in five fucking years.

The blame certainly didn’t fall on him. He’d been inventive and had worked hard even though she hadn’t exactly made his part easy.

Perhaps she really was damaged beyond repair and the future held nothing more for her, not anymore.

 

∞

 

“Lt. Ayala, please report to my ready room.”

She leaned back in her chair, hands clasped against her thighs.

Despite the length of their travel, this was the first time she had called him in, and she wondered briefly how many on the bridge might have noticed that fact.

If Ayala found the situation odd, he kept his confusion well hidden.

She watched him move across the room, coming to stand at attention on the other side of her desk. For a moment, she evaluated him again, before voicing the carefully measured words.

Like the exemplary officer he was, he listened to her blunt proposition with a blank face, only a slight raise of his brows hinting at his surprise. In a fraction of a second, he then regrouped and accepted her invitation with discretion and restrained interest.

He was smart. Most likely, he had immediately understood where her offer stemmed from but was wise enough to keep his notions and sympathy to himself. She expected nothing less. After all, she had chosen him partly for these qualities.

That evening, he showed up at her door on time, chimed and waited, greeted her formally, and stepped inside only when gestured to do so.

His uniform was flawless, his hands holding the PADD like she had advised, and although everything was proceeding safely as she had planned, she wavered.

Back in her ready room, her desk between them, she had told him this was a personal request, not duty, and he wasn’t obligated in any way. Hearing this, he had gifted her a rare smile. A warm, boyish grin with way more Maquis than Starfleet, assuring her she didn’t need to worry, it would be his pleasure – and hers, for sure.

Nevertheless, now that he stood in her quarters, his masculinity and obedience a stark contrast to her own calculated femininity dressed in pink satin, she couldn’t ignore the inequality.

Not only because she was his superior, no, that was much less a problem. The true imbalance came from the unspoken fact they were both well aware of; he was solely a substitute for someone she could never have.

Before her hesitancy had time to grow, he had placed the PADD on the table and stepped up to her.

Maybe the quiet biting of her lip spoke more loudly than words could or maybe he was simply intuitive, but he seemed to recognize her need for him to take the lead and to relieve them of the burden of discussion.

No matter how determined she had been earlier, cool rationality reflected in each short sentence, she couldn’t find that calm anymore.

Not with the way his hand trailed up her arm and came to rest on the side of her face, brushing her cheek softly, and with that tiniest gesture evoking an echo from the past even before his lips met hers.

 _He_ had been gentle too, just like this man, their touch painfully similar. Two men with such violent history, yet their kisses whispered roses and moonlight.

She leaned into his embrace, and his arms wrapped around her like a warm blanket, inviting her to the solace of his closeness.

His fingers wound up into her hair and cradled the base of her skull, pulling her deeper into an achingly undemanding kiss. Ever so slowly, his caress moved down her spine, lingering on the curve of her lower back, feeding her imagination of how that touch would feel drifting lower.

She let out a contented sigh, opening her mouth for the soft exploration of his tongue. Her instinct hadn’t been wrong. She would be handled with skill.

Relaxing under his exquisite care, a disturbing thought snuck in uninvited.

Was this how he had made love to his wife? With tenderness and consideration, confirming the vows given with the golden ring he still wore? The wife who was waiting tens of thousands of light years away, along with his boys and the home and life he would have now... if she hadn’t interfered.

In a sudden wave of dizziness, she broke the kiss, horrified by how soon she had managed to ruin a promising start.

He didn’t appear bothered.

Showing no sign of insecurity or offense, he only smoothly changed his approach, as if such minor disruptions had no effect once he was set on a goal.

His gaze dropped to her waist as he untied her satin robe, baring her skin to the cool of the air and the heat of his touch. She savored the feel of the fabric sliding off her shoulders and down her back, but it was the naked hunger in his eyes that made her shiver.

More than anything else, she needed that fire, needed him to burn away everything outside this moment. But as she watched, he locked that passion away again, veiling it behind service and discipline, leaving her with a sense of loss and another memory stirred.

If there had been more time, _he_ might have looked at her the same way. Like she was all curves and temptation, made to be conquered and taken before the night was over. In the short while they’d been given, he’d only shown her patient understanding and all-abiding love, breaking her heart every time she remembered.

Kissing his way down the side of her neck, he covered her breasts with his warm mouth and hands, licking each nipple until they were hard and wanting, aching when he detached. Kneeling to the floor before her, he then raised his eyes, waiting with parted lips for her permission to continue.

He was undeniably beautiful, his generosity unexpected. Not only the intimate offer abiding at her feet, but his willingness to ignore her ambiguous signals and obvious conflict, asking her again to join him in creating a realm for only two.

She closed the short distance between them, knees weak at his hot breath on her mound. His hands slid up her thighs, coming to rest on her hips, and she clasped her palms to them, urging him to dig deeper into her flesh.

Then his mouth nestled against her core, filling her world with a flood of sensations.

Slickness against slickness, his nimble tongue twirling along folds and crevices. Her toes curling into the carpet at his lips wrapping around the center of her pleasure, sucking and releasing in rhythm with her moans and gasps of delight.

God, how she had missed this wonder.

His face was buried between her thighs and all she could see was his dark hair. The tattoo in his hairline was easy to envision.

Without hesitancy, she threaded her fingers into his thick hair, enjoying the rough, untamed texture, and allowed herself to dive into fantasy.

Would _he_ have lapped her like this, like the taste of her arousal was the sweetest nectar, to be savored to the last drop? Gripping her hips, holding her still and steady while he feasted, grinning at her rapturous cries begging him for more?

Would she have found a lifetime of heaven with him if he had stayed?

Try as she might to keep the images satisfying, the darkness crept in and shadowed her daydream, and rather than fueling her arousal, the fantasy only drove her peak further away.

Reluctantly, she let the illusion vanish and withdrew enough to look down at his confusion. Shaking her head and forcing a sad smile, she motioned him to stand up.

Kindest would be to send him away.

Her orgasms didn’t come easily these days, if they came at all, and she doubted it would help to explain the difficulty of relaxing when her body was constantly tense and her mind dark and crowded.

He’d done everything she had hoped, had worked to deliver what she had so selfishly asked for, and she had struggled to concentrate on his efforts. The problem was the one left unnamed, settled firmly between them. Believing she could rid herself of those inner demons had been too optimistic.

She was about to thank him and wish him good night, apologize for her preoccupation, when something in the air shifted. Something in him.

Like some unspoken deliberation had reached a conclusion, the questions in his eyes were replaced with a steady calm. Without waiting for her opinion, he lifted her into his arms and headed for her bedroom.

His unhurried steps and strong, possessive hold instantly sharpened her focus.

Aside from his file, how much did she actually know about him?

He was quiet and composed, kept his friends few and valued his privacy. On duty, he was reliable, always there when he was needed, fulfilling his responsibilities, never once letting her down.

This man felt different. His moves radiated determination and will, sending her pulse into a wild hammering. He wasn’t waiting for her orders; he was leading the way. To what, she didn’t know, but would soon find out.

An uncharted sea, a story untold. He could be anything to her. A nightmare or all her dreams combined.

His scent invaded her senses with every inhale, heady like a warm summer night or a rich red wine, pouring into her blood. The thrill of danger and desire curled low in her belly, but when they reached the edge of the bed, he simply laid her down.

For a while, he regarded her, naked on the pristine sheets.

“What do you want? Tell me, please,” he asked then.

The tingling of her skin calmed, the fever for the unknown dissipating.

No matter how predicted or reasonable the question, she couldn’t find a decent answer.

“To feel,” she said and added, “To forget,” immediately lashing herself for such needless honesty.

His expression was unreadable, his gaze sweeping over her form, the silence and her own worries making her more uncomfortable with every slowly ticking second.

Was he thinking about _him_ too, a friend who had shared his past and his loss? Was he seeing a woman meant to be with another, was he frozen and sorry for ever getting involved with her?

Or was he recalling the ideal of a captain, the picture now stained by a request too cheap and an experience too disappointing to hold any worth? Were his thoughts already on tomorrow and the next shift, and how his respect for her was forever lost?

He began to undress, his eyes calling for attention, but the shame burned too deep for her to meet his eyes, let alone enjoy the sight of his broad shoulders and narrow hips, and his erection standing hard and ready.

She turned to stare at the stars outside her window.  

Feeling the bed shift under him was a relief. Soon, they’d both be lost in their own passion, and the pressure to communicate anything meaningful could be postponed if not avoided altogether.

He planted a series of kisses from her toes to her inner thigh, ready to continue pleasing her with mouth and fingers and skills she would undoubtedly enjoy.

The idea of receiving more of his servitude was intolerable.

With all her strength, she pulled him on top of her, relieved as he complied and settled between her thighs.

“You can think of him if you want to. I don’t mind,” he offered, voice heavy with a defeat so complete she found nothing to say.

His weight pressed her down, into the mattress and the oblivion waiting, and she held her breath. The tip of his cock moved along her wet folds, over her opening and around her clit in one long, silken tease.

Then he pushed, ever so carefully past her entrance, the swollen head of his length sliding inside her, and she stilled in awe.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” he asked, tuned to her signals, but uncertain about the message.

“Yes, no, NO,” she breathed and moved impatiently. “It’s perfect. Go on, please.”

Nothing about their togetherness was what she had assumed.

She had planned for a quick fuck, unburdened of obligation or promise. That’s what she had suggested and that’s what he had agreed to.

Reality was turning out to be horribly awkward and out of sync. His gentle touches roused her dark thoughts and suppressed emotions, intensifying the memories instead of helping her to let go.

And still, for whatever reason, they both kept trying, as if their efforts were sustained by a hope that a common space could be found and the rewards waiting would be worth their struggle.

He entered her slowly, aware how his size would stretch her to the point of pain, and her mouth fell open with the miracle of each glorious inch of him. Behind the heavy fog of arousal, she knew he was looking at her, seeking for a connection, but all she could do was stare blindly into the past, saying goodbye.

With each smooth glide, the image behind her lids fluttered, like a reflection on the surface of a pond, rippling in a gentle breeze growing into a storm.

Part of her wanted to hold on. The memory had been her constant companion and the bitter hurt a force driving her forward through her days. The regret was all she had left of _him_.

Faintly, she registered how some thrusts occasionally came harsher, more insistent, but her eyes stayed shut, her spirit held in limbo between past and present, joy and agony intertwined into a feverish whirl.

Until he pushed once more with vigor, burying himself inside her body, and paused there.

The sudden lack of sensation made her cry out her disappointment, her entire being throbbing, craving to sink back into the grace and respite brought to her with every aching penetration. Nonetheless, she knew he was waiting.

For her to open her eyes, and to acknowledge him.

Maybe this was as far as his pride allowed him to go. Absorbed in her own inner world, she hadn’t given him much.

Perhaps he realized the favor had been too much to ask for, wounding more than healing, and he was putting an end to the insanity. But when she managed to rid herself of the haze, she didn’t see a man weakened or giving up.

Stationed above her was steel and lightning, his charged posture roaring a demand, for his person and significance to be recognized.

Whoever this stranger was, she’d never seen anything so gorgeous.

The hands taking a firm hold of her head and keeping her in place were not those of an officer under her command.

The lips crushed to hers, assaulting her mouth with tongue and teeth, were not the same that had agreed to her request.

And the way he pinned her arms to the bed, his length embedded inside her like she was his and his alone, held a threat and control over her in a way she was not used to, making her shiver with delicious anticipation.

Even his voice held a new timbre, coiling around her heart like invisible chains, heavy and unrelenting, dragging her away from where she had been hiding and into the light, into him.

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen next, Kathryn,” he began and she tensed at the deliberate use of her given name.

“I’m going to fuck you however I want, and one way or the other I will make you come. Make no mistake; I have the time, will, and energy, and more means than you can imagine to either keep you coming over and over until your next shift starts or to deny you release until you’re willing to trade your life for it.”

The arrogance of his statement washed over her, arousing and humiliating, any reply he might have expected dying in her throat.

“I don’t know you, Kathryn,” he continued in a slightly softer tone at her apparent shock. “I don’t know how you need to be touched to give you the most pleasure, and for some reason you’re not giving me any directions.That doesn't matter. By the time I’m done with you, I’ll have learned all your secrets.”

Face bright red, she tried to turn her head aside, away from his spotlight, but his response was immediate.

Her eyes shot open as he grabbed her hair and wrenched her back, adrenaline and alarm spiking through her blood.

“And one more thing. When you do come, you will fucking look at me and say my name.”

He didn’t wait for her approval.

He didn’t have to.

They both knew she could end their encounter with a single word whenever she wanted. Equally clear was that nothing, nothing in the universe would make her ask him to stop.

The measured consideration of his earlier moves was gone, and instead she was twisted and bent as he searched for the limits of her body, smiling blatantly at her silent discomfort and lack of objection.

One leg draped over his shoulder, the other spread to her side, she was set to an angle baring her wide open and helpless, granting him access to push further still, taking her breath away with his added weight on her chest and the grind on her throbbing clit.

At her choked gasp, he caressed her cheek, mimicking his earlier gesture. Only now it was paired with an insolent grin, mocking the tenderness that had led them nowhere.

Readying for action, he hovered over her trembling form, gripping her wrists and the meat of her ass, and when his cock impaled her with the force of a shotgun, her scream sliced the air.

He gave her no time to adjust, no space to move. And no chance to think.

Without mercy, he continued slamming into her, silencing her cries with battering kisses. Like a common language had been found, a solid connection finally made, her body responded to his effortlessly.

Her muscles enjoyed the stretch, her skin savored his bruising grip. Her swollen lips thirsty for another assault, her mind chanting gratitude and lust for more.

Each slap of flesh drove her inexorably higher, breaking down her shields and the memories that had kept her distant and suffering in solitude. And all through the feverish climb, his eyes held hers, fervent ebony digging into her soul, anchoring her to the present and to him.

Her moans soon turned into intoxicated whimpers, spiced with cries of surrender under his relentless pounding, yet his composure stayed intact.

Every thrust came sharp and steady, balancing between giving and holding back, his self-restraint absolute. He showed no sign of fatigue, no indication he was about to give into the inferno building up in his muscles, waiting to erupt. His breathing remained even and moves controlled in a silent assurance he would be able to keep going as long as she needed - or he wanted.

His strength was her deliverance, his control her freedom, and when the first sweet ripples of climax begun to tingle from her core and down her thighs, her spine arching up against him, she kept her eyes wide and locked on the fountain of her pleasure.

His name didn’t need to be forced. It exploded into the air with her orgasm, long and intense, a cry from the drowning.

At that moment, everything outside their shared heat ceased to exist. There was no tomorrow, no yesterday. No complicated concepts of duty and responsibility, no orders given and regretted later. And right then, she did forget.

Swept away by a storm of ecstasy, willingly yielding to its power, until the last shudders faded into a blessed nothingness, she did forget how, for a fleeting minute five years ago, life had been nearly perfect.

She forgot the kisses and promises, exchanged on a paradise planet, opening a view to a beautiful future. And the away mission on another planet not three weeks later, shattering that dream forever.

The decision whom to send had to be made in minutes. The risk was high, uncertainties plenty. Nothing she hadn’t been trained to do, nothing she hadn’t done a thousand times before. It was her part of the bargain as captain of a starship, to consider all available information and make the best possible call.

In reality, the single element she had genuinely considered, the sole perspective guiding her in that crossroads of time was a need to prove herself, prove she was worthy of her rank. To show she could pass the ultimate test and send into the flames anyone under her command, even the man she loved.

No one else required such a sacrifice, only she and her own insecurity.  

The feeling had no words back then, or the belief that fueled it, leaving her unaware how completely her reasoning was clouded.

Deep down, she believed no one deserved as much fortune as she had been given, success in leadership and the blessings of love, nor could anyone carry so much weight. If she attempted to keep both, she would certainly fail and then they would all be lost. And to her, the safety of the crew would always, always, come first.

She couldn’t remember if they had said goodbye, but she did remember his eyes. Understanding and forgiving, knowing precisely why she had chosen to send him, better than she did at the time.

That look was burned into her consciousness, vivid and clear, easily recalled and examined later, when she was ready to go through the events and unravel the extent of her failure and the final truth.

Blinded by her own fears, she had left other options unexplored. If she had acted like the captain she took pride in being, she wouldn’t have needed to send anyone.

Regret was a strange, treacherous companion.

In the beginning, the sting had cleared her view, pointing the direction for blame and redemption. Once given room it settled tight, slowly consuming all other emotions, all thoughts spiraling inescapably towards the empty depths of what-ifs. At its center was a singularity draining energy and essence until all that was left was a shell, carrying inside echoes of the past.

She listened to the deep and regular breathing behind her. The pulsing in her core gradually calmed and the fog of afterglow faded, bringing forth the aches and soreness all over her body, keeping her centered and focused soundly on her lover whose arms cradled her in sleep, guiding her to a decision.

There would be no love with this man. Perhaps not even friendship. She would make sure neither of them had to suffer when their arrangement ended.

But there could be a mutual understanding and a purpose, to let go of memories and a happiness long gone, to help fill an emptiness and heal the wounds they left behind.

If there was a chance he could soothe the constant pain in her chest and give her restless mind these moments of peace, if he’d be willing to use his power to tear her apart and restore her to life with such exquisite, violent passion, if he wouldn’t care how little she was able to give him back... she’d take it.

No questions asked, no promises made.

She’d damn well take it.

 

* * *

 


End file.
